A Beautiful Nightmare
by AliceMitch09
Summary: An invitation in the dead of the night, of which she responded so willingly. The Nightmare King meets The Mistress of the Night. Pitch/OC, Boogeyman/DreamEaterOC


**A/N:**

**For starters, I might change the summary AGAIN. I do not feel confident about it, I suck at making up summaries. Please tell me about the summary before I change my mind to change it, PLEASE!?**

**I should have been updating 'Four Seasons' instead of succumbing to Pitch Black for some random reason. And mind you, my OC existed way before RotG. I do not plan to use Pitch as a reference as to why my OC was who she was. It was highly coincidental since I find it fun to let my OC, a demon, meet Pitch, the boogeyman. YAY~ HAHAHAHAHA.**

**NOTE: I thank BlackDragon741 very much for bringing up your concern. Incubus is a male demon, who sleeps with its female victims, gives them nightmares, thus, killing them. I made use of the _Germanic_ _folklore_ of _Mara_ or _Mare_, a spirit or goblin that rides on the chests of humans while they sleep, giving them bad dreams/nightmares. (wikipedia baby.)**

**This is my first time writing a dark-themed fiction. It was a weird yet fun experience. But PLEASE be the better judge for me alright? **

**Disclaimer:**

**Pitch Black (c) Dreamworks**

**Mora, plot (c) mine.**

* * *

The night was peaceful.

Insects creaked against the darkness resonating their sound into a peaceful rhythm that lulled towards the sleeping town. Where every child sleeps peacefully and soundly like infants, good dreams filling their innocent minds as the night went on.

A peaceful night indeed…

…it was too peaceful…

In one of the houses, a vengeful scream echoed into the night, the lights went on as rapid footsteps trailed towards the direction of the child's room. The mother watched in horror as her child trashed into her bed, sweating heavily screaming in her sleep as the nightmares went on. The child's face looked like she was torturing, her hands flailing everywhere. The mother ran to her child, taking both her shoulders shaking her awake.

The child still screamed, crying even when the darkness engulfed her in her sleep.

There were tears in her mother's eyes as well, this was what she feared the most. And the more she shook her child, the more fear was eating them both.

A dark shadow slithered by past her, forming into a silhouette of a rather tall creature that resembled a man. The silhouetted man stood by the wall, watching the oblivious creatures of his presence cower in fear. The sight was a delight to him.

Glowering gold eyes shone against the dim room, watching with glee even as he finally released the child from his clutches finally reuniting with her mother. His laughter, which sounded off as he slipped away in search of helpless more children, resonated into the mother and daughter's minds. It was a heartless laughter, a laughter that would go beyond the depths of darkness to continually haunt them for as long as they both shall live.

The mother and child then knew who he was - the Boogeyman.

He _would_ come back.

They were in_ fear_.

And where there was fear, there was _him._

_Him._

Pitch Black.

The Nightmare King.

* * *

Elsewhere was a man, in his early thirties, snoring into the comforts of his velvet king sized bed. Tomorrow, he would wed the woman of his dreams. The woman he's always sought for all his life.

But tonight, as the cloud hid the moon and a Cheshire smile appeared from the foot of his bed, would be his eternal death.

Very slowly, the owner of the Cheshire smile's body began to materialize. Unruly dark raven hair tied into low braids, messy bangs with hair clips barely keeping her hair in place, pale white complexion, thick lashes, pointed teeth and a pair of topaz eyes that shone brightly against the dark. She wore a top hat that was black as the night, blood red ribbon draped around the hat. Her attire was that of a yellow blouse with a low cut and reached just above her belly, a red tie, black tux-like vest, black shorts, purple and pink stripped stockings, high heeled white boots, white gloves and an umbrella of which has a handle of a smiling skull.

She stared into the hapless sleeping victim before her, completely unaware of his fate.

Slowly making her way towards him, she kicked off her boots and turned to watch him sleep. Very slowly with her delicate gloved fingers, she traced his jaw up to the shell of his ear smiling delightfully when he shivered against her touch. But he did not wake up.

_Joy_, she thought.

Intricately, she made motion to sit on his chest, both legs on either side of him settling her hands to cup his handsome face. Her smile was long gone. Shadows filled her face, joining itself to the darkness.

Before long, her whole body encapsulated and formed itself into shadows and surrounded him whole. A deathly laugh escaped from her mouth when he started to trash and turn. More like struggled really with her weight on top of him.

He was gasping for breathe, sweating rapidly and desperate to get away from the darkness and fear. But he was losing as he was trying to fight it so.

She cackled more, licking her lips in anticipation as she leaned down to whisper against his ear.

"Have a beautiful nightmare my lovely..."

The man started to groan haphazardly shallow breathes escaping from his mouth before finally, her most favorite part of the night...

An earsplitting scream erupted from his mouth. It was so loud, but no one could here him. No one but her. Blood choked him the more he screamed, darkness fully engulfing him whole.

He was dead.

Her Cheshire smile slowly curled back on her face as she leaned down to kiss his dead lips.

Slipping away from him, she picked up her boots very delicately and slipped into them, she walked towards the balcony window without making motion to open the windows. She freely passed by with ease and turned to the direction of the dead man.

Moments later, a woman walked towards the man with a loving emotion on her face. She was waking him up, but he wouldn't. She frowned and tried again, but he wouldn't wake up. Consumed by fear, she shook him and yelled while in tears.

By then, she had already realized it - he was _dead_.

_Dead_ in his sleep.

All the blood drained from her face, she remembered the tales she once heard of when she was a child. A creature who only appeared at night, fending off the innocent in their deep slumber. A creature who would feed into her victims' deepest darkest fears, and then eat them without second thought.

She thought it was just an urban legend, tales that scared off little children, stories that lingered over time but had no proof.

But she was _dead _wrong.

Her fiancé was dead, with no trace of any human to kill him silently. And only one was capable of doing such deed. The tales were no bedtime story after all; it wasn't just a single urban legend...

The Dream Eater.

_It_ was real.

_It_ existed.

But _it_ had a name, but no one knew.

No one, except the moon.

Her name was Mora, and she was, The Mistress of the Night.

Nobody knew, except for herself and the moon.

* * *

One night, Mora was floating off in her umbrella into the chilly London night watching boredly with half-lidded eyes at the innocent walking hand-in-hand, and their restlessness. They were unaware of the dark creature as it freely floated above them. She was nothing but air to them. She was invisible.

But of course she was invisible, since rarely anyone a creature like her existed. She was an urban legend old folks would spread out, a myth once told but soon forgotten.

But she didn't care.

All the better for her to feed into the impeccable humans she so longed to be close with.

She's not the kind of mythical being who so longed for a small flame to be believed in, what's the point of being believed in if people were just going to find a way to fight you off? She's not that desperate like that foolish winter spirit. To her, being invisible was the best thing in order to thrive for her prey. Her prey being the fickle minded humans.

Inadvertently, the wind blew her viciously towards a certain direction. Her topaz eyes tore from the humans, and to the direction the wind was taking her - the west dark forest. She smirked slyly.

Well _that _meant an invitation.

Landing on the dark forest, she twirled her umbrella against her shoulder while skipping randomly on the dirt with her boot.

There was thick fog every where.

It was so thick, that not even a single trace of light can sneak its way in.

And it accommodated well with the dark like a long lost friend.

The dark was something she was used to, even through this dark forest her eyes adjusted well from the gnarled dead trees, the dirty swamp, dead animals and the wide field she's currently standing on. On the far side, there was an abandoned church in shambles. Overgrown vines and cracks assorted the building, leaving no trace of being cared or used for many years. Big piles of rocks adorning the field so as there's an accent to it.

"Hmm, peachy." she said in a voice soft English accent that was as soft as silk and light as a feather, but as eerie as the night as it resonates throughout the empty field. Smooth like a fine lady, but cold and harsh like that of an evil being that she is.

The sound of sand trickling through the trees caught her attention, but made no motion to acknowledge it. Her face, void of emotion, twitched from the side into a coy smile. She lazily stared at the boulders of rock before sitting on one with her legs crossed. Her closed umbrella lay against the boulder as the sands near her.

She smiled despite herself for this sudden invitation, she had not anticipated this, but surely it was worth her time.

After all, it's not everyday she gets to meet **and **greet the famous Boogeyman and Nightmare King himself - **Pitch Black**.

Sensing his nearing presence, she lazily opened her eyes to meet his.

"To what do I owe the honor of this sudden invitation, Pitch Black?"

The fog slowly thinned out, the shadows all rushing before her and sands snaring to form into something. Or rather, someone - a tall, lithe, pale grey skinned creature with sharp features, dark clothes and two golden yellow eyes - Pitch Black.

He chuckled at the acknowledgment of his name, so much that the feeling in her voice was mutual.

Taking slow steps towards her, Pitch drinked in the young lady's fine features. Surely she wasn't a day over Jack Frost's age, or hardly anywhere near the Tooth Fairy's. But she was a fine sight, a very fine sight for a lady who calls herself** The Mistress of the Night**, a dream eater.

He bowed politely "Miss Mora," in return, she raised a hand in amusement. He gladly took it and planted a kiss. "the honor is all mine actually."

Her smirk widened. "Surely not if you were to invite me on a lovely evening as this, do tell me Pitch Black, to what do _I _owe the honor of my presence and this sudden invitation?"

"Ah, as the rumors say. You really are a woman of your word, always straight to the point."

She smiles coyly in return, expecting him to go on.

"Nothing really, I just thought it would be rather delightful to be in the presence of the one and only Mistress of the Night."

"Mora, if you're ever so kind dear sir." she interrupted, having enough of her petty title.

"Mora," he says, liking the way it tasted on his tongue "Mora it is then."

The meeting is intriguing her, never in her 400 years of existence has any one ever made contact with her. The man in the moon barely says a word, not that she cares. No one would speak to a creature such as herself who takes pleasure in killing and watching people die in her clutches. Not even a single mythical creature would approach her because of the fear they had for her, an deathly creature, a true monster.

"Never in my 400 years as anyone _ever _acknowledged my presence. Why suddenly now, Pitch Black?" the raven haired girl blurted out, taking off her top hat but never leaving Pitch's heated gaze.

"Call it curiosity, but I simply am intrigued with the way you make your visits to people." Pitch says with a light shrug.

"_That_, or your wondering why our tables aren't turned. You scare off the innocent children. While I, scare off and kill any innocent I deem. You taunt them in their sleep, feeding away their mindless selves into their glorious fears. I too delve into the innocent with their fears, while I slowly take pleasure in consuming them whole. Really, why hasn't our tables been turned?" Mora teases, flashing him her pointed teeth.

Pitch smirked. She was teasing him with the facts laid out on his plate. What a bright girl.

He should know.

He's known a thing or two about her before she became the dream eater she was now.

For a very long time, he's known.

After all, _he _was the one who lured her to the darkness.

She was once Mary Sue Austen, daughter to a wealthy democratic family with hopes and expectations from her. Young as she was, she was always fascinated by dark magic, demons and creatures. She was a believer of fear, the dark side, and most especially, him.

He can't recall her exact age when she finally gave in, but it was a pretty story.

She just can't seem to remember it...

* * *

On that eventful day, she was told that she was to wed a man twice her age next week. She was enraged but couldn't do a thing about it.

During her free time, he sensed great fear coming from her and another that was oh so delectable. So he trailed behind her when she was alone in her study, her expression all but of full hatred and helplessness. He wanted to taste it. So curiously, he hid amongst the shadows of her book shelf and when she was to reach out a book, he decided to feed into her a bit and see what that delectable thing was. They had conjoined unknowingly; Pitch had left a part of him in her. The delectable feeling was of blood lust, sadism and fear, and he couldn't be happier.

So he made a plan, to help her escape from her accursed life.

First, he killed her in her sleep. He fed her with her masochistic innermost desires that blinded her from her sanity to the shallow depths of darkness.

Then, cast her under the moonlight allowing the Man on the Moon to do his tricks.

And finally, full darkness immersed from her body which spurred her to a sudden killing intent to murder her whole family in just one night.

And even as horrifying as she is, a dream eater, Pitch Black couldn't find her anything but beautiful.

A beautiful, _beautiful _work of art.

An epitome of a beautiful nightmare.

* * *

"So tell me Pitch Black," she starts off again, shaking him from his stupor.

Mora was just standing a few inches from him with her arms crossed against her chest. The dark fits well with her, even with such clothes, she was beautiful. So hauntingly beautiful.

"Why the sudden invitation?" she whispered.

**...**

With a sly smirk and instead of answering her, he had taken her into his arms and his mouth on hers. She was taken by surprise at first, but fell into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Both smiled at the fervor. He kissed her hard, pouring all his years of admiration and fascination he has for this woman and for the pent up emotions lingering him.

_No_, he was not in love with her.

Much less, saw her as a _daughter_.

Far from the ideals of _master_ and _creation_.

She was much more than that.

The answer was just simple: **_she _**was **_his_**.

His and his alone.

And that was more than enough to explain.

He bit her lower lip harshly, earning a delightful groan from the woman. She did not like to be manhandled that easily. Even as she had savored his upper lip, he showed no ways of ever being relentless to her. Their tongues met and danced a violent waltz that only they knew. She tasted of sweet tea and cake, a wonderful combination. A delightful combination coming from a lady such as herself.

She fit perfectly into his arms, the way he does to hers.

After a while, they separated and stared at the other languidly.

How many years has he _ever _thought of going as far as to kiss her?

How many years has it crossed _Mora's _mind that her first kiss would have come from him, Pitch Black?

The thought made her laugh.

"So that's what you were plotting Pitch Black..." she said, liking the way his name rolled finely against her tongue. _Hmm, Pitch Black_.

"I find that I'm amusing you, Mora." he says coquettishly.

Two evil smirks from two dark creatures before they delved into each other's mouths once more. Reveling into their intoxicating taste, memorizing every nook and cranny of their wet cavern, and every slip and mount of their perfect bodies colliding.

When they broke free again, it was if they were looking each other for the first time in the eyes as humans.

For some unknown reason, they started to marvel in each other's presence. Already entranced by the other, but refusing to have succumbed to human emotions.

This was _possession_, not of love.

They were rightfully under the ownership of the other. And no one had no privilege to change that matter, absolutely no one.

"Oh, what a lovely night it is." she had said. Her umbrella was magically by her hand and she leaned against it and she marveled this enchanted forest. This almost felt like home.

"It is." he nodded in agreement, placing both hands behind him.

**...**

"A waste to leave it this lovely without nightmares going on, don't you agree?"

By the way she had said it, he was very sure that it was an invitation. Pitch turned to her, bemused by that sly Cheshire-like smile on her face that spawned malice with the ideas he has on mind. His speculations were correct after all.

Oh, he could get used to this.

"May I?" he obliges, bowing before her politely with an expecting hand.

Mora mockingly touched her chest, as if in shock "Why, of course you may good sir." then went to put her gloved hand into his.

Eyes bright as the moonlight and yellow as the sun shone with deliberate glee and excitement the moment she returned the favor. The feeling was mutual after all.

"Well let's go then..."

"We wouldn't want to be late now, shall we?"

And with that, they vanished into the night hand in hand.

The King and his Mistress.

Gone into the moonlight, spreading fear and darkness wherever they go, in however they do it and forever shall they do it.

Together forever.

* * *

**Mora in Scandinavian means, 'Nightmare'. The clothes are weird, but has a lot of reference on them.**

**Wow, I had fun writing this. Even though I was tired and angry that I could't update, it was fun. I did not expect it to have turn out as some mini-lime, I swear.**

**So now you're wondering, HOW OLD IS MORA!? Answer? She's about 17-19 years of age. Yeah, I don't regret that. It's kinda fun seeing dark creatures/characters having intimate relationships with their kind and not giving a damn for age. They're _that _classy.**

**Fail scary shit is FAIL x.x**

**Oh, and you can check my dA account as to how Mora looks like**

**Review what you think okay?**


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